Judgment of the Mutants
by David Spears
Summary: Three years after the events of Tiberium Wars, the Scrin have returned with another invasion fleet and a young, cocky GDI Commander dispatches a plan to use mutants to undermine the Scrin defenses and infiltrate their headquarters and end them forever.
1. Chapter 1

Bullets fell to the ground in rapid succession, their metal casings clanging against the shattered concrete in the night. Captain Gunn kept his fire focused on the closest of the oncoming Scrin attackers. The buzzers came at him without slowing, despite the hundreds that fell before them.

"Jonas! Where are you?" the Captain screamed into his microphone attached at his helm. Silence beckoned from the other end. "Jonas!" He cried again, the same silence meeting his plea as before. The mutant officer roared horribly as his chaingun continued to rip through the incoming hoards with growing heat. _Too many_, the Captain thought, panic surfacing in the back of his mind

The mindless buzzers continued to pour down the street towards the blockade the Captain occupied as bullets flew from the barrel of the smoking turret until, much too long before the Captain had anticipated, there came a hollow whirl and the turret slowed. Immediately the big man discarded the weighty turret and turned to flee, picking up an assault rifle from the body of a fallen comrade as he did so.

"This is Captain Gunn, does anybody on this frequency read me?" He shouted into his mic as he raced down the city streets, seeking refuge from the pursuing Scrin. "Repeat, and GDI or South Clan forces respond!" He tried one more time before switching frequencies. Growling in frustration, he rounded a corner and launched himself into a broken-out building, hoping to evade the oncoming swarms.

"This is Captain Gunn, does anybody read me?" He gasped desperately after taking cover within the crippled building behind a reception desk. He raised his rifle to firing position over the desk and waited impatiently for a response. _Please, someone._ He growled silently under his breath, his eyes never leaving the streets. The swarms came and flooded by, not giving notice to his presence. It was an eternity later before the last of the buzzers had passed.

Thomas Gunn stood up and slowly moved forward, exiting the building and reemerging into the dark streets. He looked up and down both ways, searching for any sign of his pursuers or, preferably, allies. He could hear the Scrin war machines moving all throughout the city, unchecked and ruthless in their assault, killing and destroying everything that moved, and even some things that did not. Their horrid screeches echoed in his ears. He could feel their destructive presence—the ear-breaking scream of the buzzers, the Seekers' horrible growl.

He raised his rifle to firing position, fighting the cold fear threatening to choke him. His eyes scanning the consuming darkness around him silently, he switched the options on his radio to open broadcast. Breathing deeply, he inhaled before speaking.

"This is Captain Thomas Gunn broadcasting on all channels. Does anybody read me?" He paused for half a second before continuing. "Repeat. Any GDI or South Clan members respond."

He switched off his broadcaster and slowly stepped out into the middle of the intersection, dodging the debris and wreckage of old vehicles. He remained motionless for a moment, pondering his situation; waiting for a reply he knew would never come.

"This is Sergeant Rezac, South Clan sharpshooter. You alright, Captain?" came the sudden, unexpected reply over his suit's speaker. Gunn twitched at the unexpected reply, relief flooding through him at once.

"Damn it! John! Where are you?" he howled into the speaker, his heart racing beneath his grizzled chest.

"A hundred fifty meters of your position. I got eyes on you, sir. Intersection of Charlotte. Head south, we'll meet you in the lobby of the Harati Hotel halfway." Rezac's voice was tired and barely audible through Gunn's speaker, but he understood. He nodded to himself and turned south, shouldering his weapon into a relax position.

"Who else is with you, Sergeant?" the Captain queried into his mic.

"Thompson and Eskemelia, the rest are MIA…or KIA." Rezac replied slowly, somberly.

"Nothing from anyone else?"

"Negative, sir. Last report was from Brittenham, and that was over three hours ago. We lost contact with his crew after the Storm Riders took out GDI's Command Center."

"His boys weren't supposed to be anywhere near that structure." Thomas growled, his voice lacking any optimism or hope.

"Sir, I don't know what's going on around here. We should have pulled out a long time ago. Why did GDI even bother setting up a base here? There's no reason for them to be here. This is a deathtrap." Rezac paused for a moment, pondering something to himself. "It might have been a blue zone before the Second Wave but… I don't see what the point is anymore. You know what I mean, Captain?"

"Look at it this way, Rezac," Thomas Gunn brought his weapon back into firing position, searching the shadows as he made his way cautiously down the street. "If you exhausted the majority of your resources fighting an alien race three years ago, and still haven't confirmed that the mastermind of your only opposing faction on the planet is dead, what would your strategy be?"

Rezac was silent on the other end for a brief moment before suddenly replying. "Dodge and cover, Captain. Tripod heading your way on Letteridge."

"Damn it!" the mutant Captain growled.

"Thompson and Eskemelia are on the way with fireworks." Rezac replied a heartbeat later. "Stay low, head to the Harati. I'll guide you in."

"Roger that, Sergeant." Gunn dropped immediately into a crouched position and began moving hurriedly through the shadows. He drew to the intersection of Letteridge and waited. He could sense the tripod without seeing it. Ducking behind an overturned car, he gazed down the road. The death machine was less than twenty meters from him. He could remain hidden, but the tripod wouldn't need to see him to kill him. Inhaling deeply, the mutant captain braced himself and drew a grenade from his belt.

_Three… Two…_

He dashed out of his cover and launched the grenade into a nearby building. The grenade exploded, shattering glass and sending debris flying through the air. The tripod turned towards the explosion momentarily, two of its three arms scanning the building. Bullet fire assaulted its torso seconds later as Gunn raised his rifle and fired blindly with his right arm as he raced down the street towards the hotel.

"Twenty meters, Captain. Better find some cover." Rezac screamed through his mic, the sound resonating out of Gunn's speakers. From his viewpoint above them, the sharpshooter found the silhouettes of his two squad mates, each carrying a large rocket launcher on their shoulders. He gazed up the street and saw his Captain surging down the street. The tripod turned off Letteridge a brief moment later, its massive arms swinging hungrily.

"It's not going to miss!" Gunn roared. He was within shouting distance of the approaching mutants. "Fire, now!" he growled horribly, feeling the heat of the tripods lasers grow behind him. He reached the vehicles Thompson and Eskemelia had taken cover behind and dove passed them. Twin flashes ignited a second later as rockets flew from their launchers, ripping through the air. The missiles met their target seconds later, bursting into orange clouds of heat, dissipating as fast as they had appeared.

"It's not down…" Gunn growled. "Move!" the Captain shouted the order and the men dropped their rocket launchers, turning and following him down the street. They moved hurriedly, faster than their feet could carry them. Eskemelia went down, tripping over himself, grunting as he did so.

"Damn it, Stefan!" Thomas growled as he adjusted his path and made his way towards his comrade. He reached him five steps later and gripped his shoulders. Shifting his gaze towards the tripod, he grimaced in frustration.

"You're not gonna make it, Gunn!" Rezac's frenzied voice came carrying through the speakers. Gunn nodded quickly, helping Eskemelia to his feet. The sound of thunder crashed above them as their sharpshooter began loosing rounds from his rifle futilely at the tripod.

"Stefan," Gunn began, turning off his mic. "Get outta here! Get to your daughter!" Gunn roared, shoving the Corporal onward down the street. Eskemelia gave no reply but kept running down the street, looking back at once. The Captain growled in defiance of the approaching tripod as he drew another grenade from his belt.

"Thomas, what the _hell_ are you doing?" Rezac screamed over his mic, his voice echoing down the street from the tower he was perched in. Gunn switched his mic back on and growled deeply. "Thomas, get out of there!"

"Rezac, get your men back!" Was the final command before the Captain switched his mic off again.

Rezac watched down on the street, as Captain Thomas Gunn stood in the middle of the road, his grenade posed to strike. The tripod's three arms raised and began to glow in unison, preparing to strike the Captain where he stood.

With a horrible howl, the mutant rushed forwards and sent his grenade flying through the air. The grenade whirled and spun, timed to strike in unison with the tripods horrible lasers. Gunn growled and watched intently as two large explosions preceded the grenade, striking the tripod where it stood.

The captain's eyes widened as his grenade's explosion became part of a large hailstorm of fire, consuming the tripod. The heatwave knocked Gunn back where he stood, forcing him to the ground. The explosions in the sky intensified for a brief moment before becoming into dark plumes of smoke.

Gunn opened his eyes to hazy smoke and brought himself to his feet. Ashes fell to the ground like gentle snow as the remains of the tripod crumbled to the ground.

"Eskemelia? Thompson?" Gunn asked, switching on his mic.

"Negative, sir." Came Thompson's reply. Gunn turned around and saw Eskemelia, shaking his head slowly.

"Calling all mutant forces in the Lansing East Sector, please respond." Came a firm voice over the group's speakers. "This is GDI Commander Marks, all forces please respond."

Gunn sighed, slightly confused and looked up towards the tower where Rezac stood tall. The sharpshooter raised his arm in acknowledgement of the broadcast and Gunn nodded in response.

"This is South Clan Captain Gunn. What are you doing here, Commander Marks?"

"Gather your boys and find a rooftop, Captain." The voice was solid and firm, as if whoever-the-hell Commander Marks was, he had automatically assumed command of Gunn's clan and somehow won victory of the Scrin in the same breath. Both of which were impossible to do in a single lifetime, as far as Gunn was concerned.

"My Firehawks just took out a tripod near the Harati. That you, Captain Gunn?" The commander asked rhetorically. "Those Firehawks are headed South towards the Scrin warship fleet. Unless you'd like to stick around to get a front row seat, I'd suggest you get your men ready for evac."

Gunn sighed deeply and nodded to himself. Raising his left arm, he made a circular motion and pointed to the red star on top of the Harati.

"Commander, I need pick-up for four men plus gear on top of the Harati in fifteen."

"Roger that Captain. Ox is on the way. Marks out."

Gunn couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that a large snicker had escaped the Commander's mouth as soon as he had ended the call. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

The Captain sighed to himself and shook his head. He should be grateful to be alive, but for some reason he almost would have preferred to die taking that tripod to hell with him. He shuddered furiously at the thought. _Just because I'm a mutant didn't mean I have to think like one_, he told himself.

"Rezac, pack up and meet me in the lobby of the Harati. See if you can raise anyone else on the local channels while you're working, but don't make a mess about it. Gunn out."

"Understood sir." The sharpshooter paused shortly. "Is everything alright, sir?"

"Rezac…" The Captain began, sighing heavily. "John," he rephrased himself, "I don't think anything is going to be alright for a very, very long time to come."


	2. Chapter 2

Sky Lieutenant Sokol continued to handle his Firehawk with confidence after he had discharged his missiles and sent yet another Scrin tripod into the burning hell from which it came. It was his twenty-seventh mission in half as many days, and every period between missions seemed to grow shorter and shorter as the need for constant airstrikes increased and the number of able-bodied pilots decreased. He didn't mind the continuous flights; he knew what he was doing well enough to avoid being shot down. In most cases anyway.

"HQ this Firehawk Blaze-Leader, please advise on enemy position." He calmly voiced into his helmet's microphone. The pilot punched in a few keys and brought his radar to full view. The green arrow in the center of the screen represented his current location, the five blue arrows behind him represented his squad, all flying in perfect formation. His radar was scanning a hundred-meter radius and there were no red markers indicating enemy positions. He knew, of course, there wouldn't be. The Scrin had implemented radar-jamming techniques with the beginning of the Second Wave. Some GDI stations had the technology to counteract the jamming signals, but Firehawks weren't capable of doing so on their own.

"Repeat. HQ, this is Blaze-1, please advise on enemy movement and position." He inhaled slightly after voicing his request again and held his breath, anxiously awaiting a reply. Exhaling, he closed the radio link to HQ and changed his computer's heads-up screen to an overview of his squad.

"All jets report in." He voiced, being careful to disguise the growing uncertainty in his voice. He had been told to hail the Command Center in the East Lansing sector after passing into the city limits from the north. His squad had lost contact with his command carrier immediately after the order to takeout the tripod had come in.

Increasing Ion activity in the atmosphere had made global contact impossible with the start of the Second Wave.

The Lieutenant watched as the displays representing his wingmen flashed in sync with their verbal acknowledgement of his last command. Despite a minor jam in Blaze-4's back-up burner, the squad checked out as green-light all the way across.

"All right flyboys, listen up." Sokol began, his voice clear and firm over the squad's radios. "Communication with Headquarters has gone to white noise. We're on our own here."

He gave the squad a moment to gather his sentence before moving on.

"We're going in blind, Blazes. Everyone form up and follow my lead. Stay on the path and watch your short-range trackers. Keep focused on the visuals. But above all, like we've all been told a dozen times before," he paused slightly. "trust your instincts and your skills. Don't lose your cool."

"Or you'll end up in a lot of heat." His second-in-command finished for him. Sokol laughed over the intercom in response. He was the only one. Switching back to his radar's hundred-meter sweep, the Lieutenant placed a waypoint at the last known location of the Scrin fleet's frontline.

Ninety-seven meters remained. Sixteen seconds.

"Firehawks." He inhaled deeply. "Follow my lead…God be with us."

Lieutenant Sokol held his breath as he accelerated his Firehawk to attack speed. His squad fell in behind him, their blue markers never leaving his radar. With the waypoint marker reading ten seconds left, he minimized his radar again and opened his cockpit's shielding.

"All visuals from here on out, Blazes." He voiced the command quickly as the squad emerged from a pillow of black smoke, just above the city's darkening corpse. The blackened cloud cleared his windshield in an instant, revealing the horrible Scrin warships that lay beyond. Their formation loose and unorganized, a dozen Scrin Devastators unknowingly awaited their arrival..

_Son of a…._ the Lieutenant swore silently under his breath.

"Good news is they didn't know we were coming boys," Sokol began quickly, already appointing targets and markers on his radar for his squad to follow. "Blaze-6 and -4, cover our exit. Blaze-2, follow my lead and engage ground AA targets at will. Blaze-3 and -5, Warships are the priorities, fire at will."

His pilots were already executing his orders before he had finished issuing them. He dove down below the warships sharply, losing all visuals and radar tracking of his squad to the chaos of the red swarms encompassing his radar.

He quickly switched his weapons system to automatic targeting and let loose half of his remaining twelve missiles. They ignited from his launchers and disappeared towards their targets in flashes of hot white fire. More missiles from Blaze-2 lanced above him. Following similar patterns, they met their Seeker and Plasma Battery targets with immaculate precision.

He reached the end of the Scrin line an instant later and turned his Firehawk around to make his exiting pass at the Scrin ground defenses.

"Almost out of here boys," he voiced quickly into his mic.

"Right behind you, Sokol." Came the static reply from his wingman. _Impressive,_ he chuckled to himself, glancing out his port-side window to catch a glimpse of his Second's vapor trail.

He immediately shifted his gaze back towards the Scrin force, attempting to manually pick out targets before he became within firing range. Diving slightly, the ace pilot scanned the ground and designated a group of Seekers for two of his remaining missiles.

"Sokol, Stormriders!" the Lieutenant heard Blaze-2 shout through his speaker. He looked up from his sweep of the ground and fired his missiles at the Seekers. Even before the white flashes had dissipated beneath him, he had accelerated his speed and began rolling his ship clockwise into the horde of approaching Stormwinders, barely escaping contact with any of them.

"Firehawks!" he screamed through his mic. "Party's up! Breakaway and get out of here!"

Halfway back through the Scrin fleet, his afterburners ignited and he began cutting through the airspace en route to his squad's rally location. Blind fire from Seekers and Plasma Batteries still crossed his view, most of it fading harmlessly into the air. He only flinched slightly as bright flashes exploded behind him, rattling his ship and shaking his cockpit violently.

Emerging out of the remaining Scrin AA firing range, he lowered his thruster and joined in formation with the other Firehawk's, flying high over the city's burning silhouette.

"Call in, Blazes." He breathed heavily, sweat filling his helmet and running down his face, soaking his flight suit. His heart raced within his chest, rapidly and intensely. _Thank you,_ he prayed silently, his breathing slowly calming.

"Blaze-3, checked and good, Sir." The first call came in over his speakers. The others followed in suit. Each one reported checked, save Blaze-4, who was suffering minor pressure loss due to a crack in his cockpit and a total failure of his back-up burner.

"Blaze-2?" Sokol queried, giving no heed to the concern etched in his voice. "Lieutenant Jackson? Come in." His request was met with silence. Frantically searching out his port and starboard windows for any sign of his wingman, the Sky Lieutenant quickly called up the overview of his squad to his heads-up display.

Shock raced through his system as Sokol highlighted Blaze-2 and the letters KIA appeared in vibrant red against the black screen. Swallowing hard against his fear, he closed the overview screen and switched on autopilot.

"Everybody form up. Blaze-3, keep an eye on the radar for enemy movement, divert power to long-range scanners." He paused for a brief moment. "Everyone, fall into position, keep signatures to a low."

Four blue lights blinked in recognition of his last command.

Sky Lieutenant Sokol switched off his radio transmitter and removed his helmet, sighing heavily. _Dang it, James._ He thought to himself silently, tears already filling his eyes. Lieutenant James E. Jackson had been his wingman and Second-in-command of the Blaze squad for more than five years. Together, they had successfully lead a number of airstrikes in the last battles against the Brotherhood in Croatia, as well as a number of defensive strikes against the Scrin during the First Wave.

Absentmindedly, he ordered his computer to open a secure radio link to Blaze-2. The computer beeped at him loudly in response, unable to perform any actions with a ship registered as KIA.

_Dang it, James!_ He mental lashed out at nothing in particular.

Choking down the rush of emotion following after him, he designated Blaze-4 as pointman and broke down.

He had always been told to save emotion for the runway. To keep it all together until his seven-million dollar piece of equipment was on the ground and not in danger of being destroyed. Easy orders, of course, for the suit-and-tie officials issuing them. He didn't care. They didn't know what it was like to be in active duty. To see your brothers fall beside you. _To hell with them! _

"Lieutenant Sokol!" came Blaze-3's distinctive deep voice over his cockpit's intercom. Sokol snapped up at once, struggling instantly to regain his composure.

"Talk to me, Blaze-3!" he mumbled out, securing his helmet once again, trying to blink out the tears obscuring his vision. His radar flashed at him repeatedly—beacons from Blaze-3. "How many, -3?"

"I count twelve enemy signatures, within contact range in six seconds!"

_Son of a…._ the lieutenant cut himself off before the expletive could escape.

"Everyone cover your wingman and scramble formation Delta-2!"

Four lights blinked in recognition and the Blazes fell away from either side of him. He watched on his radar as the twelve red icons came within scanning distance, rapidly approaching his squad. Blaze-3 and -5 had separated broken off, heading west over the city, falling out of his radar range in an instant. None of the enemy markers gave pursuit. He sighed thankfully, realizing Blaze-3 and -5 were safely away.

Glancing again at his radar, he realized what was happening. All twelve enemy icons still pursued him. "Blaze-4! Blaze-6! Stratojets! Get out of here!" Blaze-4 and Blaze-6 blinked in recognition. Enemy fire lanced around him, rocking his jet and sending electrical static over his instruments. His radar blacked out.

His instruments recovered a brief moment later. His radar still down, Sokol flipped through his systems until he reached his weapons overlay. Only flares remained.

Gritting his teeth, the Lieutenant let his flares out behind him, driving his Firehawk into a nosedive as he did so. The Stormriders came on nonetheless, none of them impeded by his flares. Sokol growled in defiance and anger, diving lower still towards the city.

His radar came back online and flashed at him suddenly.

He switched it back to full view instantly and noticed two of the enemy signatures had disappeared from the back of the formations right wing. On his overview of the squad, Blaze-4's icon blinked rapidly.

"Blaze-4!" Sokol exclaimed. "What in Heaven's name are you doing?"

Blaze-4 gave no immediate verbal response; Sokol's radar blinked again as a third Scrin Stormrider disappeared from his radar.

"Three payloads left, Sky Lieutenant." The calm, voice came over the intercom.

"Blaze-4!" Sokol repeated himself, growing angry with his squadmate. "Cut yourself an exit and get out of here!"

"Negative, Lieutenant Sokol," Blaze-4 began, marking targets on his heads-up display for his remaining Streaker missiles. "back-up burner is out, Stratojets inoperable."

Sokol gave no immediate response, but instead continued to steer his Firehawk at a sharp decline towards the city. His radar blinked calmly once, reminding him of the nine Stormriders still pursuing him. They hadn't fired since their last salvo, but were still easily within firing range. He watched in anticipation as the Stormriders rearranged their formation, filling in for the three that Blaze-4 had taken out. _What were they doing?_

"Streakers out, Blaze-1!" came Blaze-4's voice crackling over the intercom. His heads-up display flashed an instant later as two of Blaze-4's last remaining missiles streaked through the sky. The first struck its target and ignited a fiery cloud, the second sending another spiraling downward into the city, smoke trailing behind it.

"One Streaker left, Lieutenant Sokol."

"Let it fly and then get out of here!" Sokol was screaming frantically, wishing with all his heart that Blaze-4 would simply flee and save himself. "Track -5 and -3's signal west and flag for pickup, do you understand me?"

"Roger that, Blaze-1. Target locked."

Sokol looked down from the cracked and dirtied windshield, glancing quickly at his radar. He saw Blaze-4's icon blink as he launched his last Streaker, and a fifth Stormrider disappeared from his radar. The Sky Lieutenant nodded to himself and looked up outside of his cockpit again, maneuvering carefully as he continued to steadily lower his altitude.

"You're clear, Blaze-4. Get out of here!" he demanded, trying to remain calm. His command was met with silence. "Blaze-4?" His radar flashed up to full view. His squad overview confirmed what the radar showed him. He was alone with the Stormriders.

_Damn it, Grenfield!_

Shaking his head and doing his best to remain focused, Sokol activated his afterburner and accelerated over the city, ever weary of the remaining Stormriders.

His radar flashed at him again. He risked a glance down to see the Scrin markers blinking rapidly. Before the Lieutenant could look up, he felt his Firehawk rock heavily under the weight of the Scrin fire. All throughout his cockpit, alarms sounded and systems began to malfunction. Panic quickly overtaking him, Sokol activated the automatic eject function.

Nothing happened.

His heart racing ever still as his Firehawk continued to plummet towards the ground, fire overtaking him, Sky Lieutenant Sokol searched his cockpit futilely for some alternative.

He was shaken heavily as a second wave of Scrin fire hit him. He recovered an instant later and looked out from his front windshield to see a large tower looming in front of him. In an instant, he instinctively closed his cockpit's shield and threw his arms over his head, holding his breath. Darkness over took him as he collided with the tower.


End file.
